


Something of Mine

by Ekkorn



Category: Destroyer (2018)
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Blow Jobs, Explicit Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hand Jobs, Hint of Angst, It's Just Fucking Guys, Oh, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, Rough Sex, Roughness, Semi-Public Sex, There's A Tag For That, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism, What Am I gonna Say, i guess, maybe even a little plot, obviously, spoiler - Freeform, they just fuck, with a side of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-06 18:56:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16838458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ekkorn/pseuds/Ekkorn
Summary: A stranger in a bar takes something. There's literally no story here.





	1. Chapter 1

There was always that one guy. That guy who stood out in a crowd, who might as well have a warning flashing over his head, red lights blinking _DANGER DANGER DANGER._

He would be muscular—sometimes lean and sinewy but always hard, usually taller than average, exuding strength and dominance. He wouldn’t necessarily be handsome in the most conventional sense, but he would always be attractive and aware of it. He would be casually dressed, rarely suited, but would favour leather and denim, often a combination of the two. He would have either scars or piercings or tattoos, sometimes all, and his demeanour would be cool and distant, but sensual all the same. He would always drink beer or hard liquor, usually nursing his drink longer than average, not risking losing control. His hair would either be too long or too short, always sporting facial hair, even if it was sometimes only a few days stubble. His expression would be superior, sometimes bored, but his eyes would be piercing and attentive and he would ooze sex.

I’d met him many times, I’d loved him and hated him and fought him, sometimes physically, I’d had him for a night or for months, one lasted over a year, but the end result was a given from the go: he wasn’t a keeper. As my mom would say. And she was right. I’d never listened to her, but she was right. Hence my current predicament. That guy was always the same, we would laugh and cry and fight and most of all fuck. Dear god, we would fuck.

So when I saw him all the bells went off in my head, _don’t don’t don’t._ How long he had been watching me I wasn’t sure, I’d not noticed him at first, he was sitting in the corner, his back against the wall, his face in shadow. He was sitting with a small group, 4 guys ranging widely in age, laughing and talking, but he was not taking part in the conversation. He was just scanning the room, taking the occasional sip. He averted my quick glances, but I could feel his eyes on me as I moved around the room, talking, laughing, drinking and dancing.

He was that guy, but something made him different.

After hours of silent vigilance he got up and moved in my direction, and I finally got a good look at him. He was in his mid-thirties, dressed in low slung, dark jeans, a grey tank under a denim west, his arms strong and well defined, a big tattoo on his right upper arm. He had a short undercut, dark blonde if I were to guess in the poor lighting, his chin covered by a trimmed beard, his jaw sharp and accentuated by a light scruff. I couldn’t make out the colour of his eyes, it was too dark, but they met mine unflinchingly for the first time all evening as he moved past me, brushing his bare arm against mine, leaving a burning mark from the touch. He glanced back and murmured an apology, but I was sure it wasn’t an accident, and I saw a hint of a smirk as he turned away. I stared after him, taking in his butt and back. _Damn._ He was downright gorgeous, and I could feel a familiar pool soaking my underwear. _Shit. Shit. SHIT._

I sat by the bar until he returned, watched him as he got a fresh beer and found a spot leaning against the wall by the exit instead of returning to his seat. He stood there, drinking lazily, making my spine tingle as he followed me when I went over to some friends and sat down, superficially taking part in the conversation while he made it harder and harder to concentrate. I wondered how he would smell, if his chest was as hard as it looked, how his beard would feel against my neck. The longer I sat, the wetter I got, I had to do something, my mother could go fuck herself, I just wanted to fuck him. I scooted down, minimised my movements by conversation, excused myself and got up, my hand clutched by my side.

He kept watching me as I approached, draining his beer and leaving the bottle hanging from between his fingers. I stopped in front of him, meeting his gaze head-on, reached out and put the damp silk in his hand and closed his fist around it. He didn’t look down but a flash of realisation crossed his face, shock widening his eyes.

I bored into him for a few beats, let go of his hand and walked off into the hallway.

“Hey.” I kept walking, enjoying the tinge of his stare, knowing he took the opportunity to have a real good look. “Hey, miss.”

I stopped, I could hear his steps come closer, soft on the concrete floor and turned to face him. His gait was smooth and he approached lightly despite his heavy boots, especially for a man of his size.

He stopped three feet away and ran his eyes over me, stopping at my calves, my thighs, my hips, no doubt noticing there was nothing underneath my tight dress, worked his way up my chest, checking out my cleavage, his tongue and teeth massaging his lower lip, a smirk curling his mouth, his full red wet mouth and his eyes were blown when he finally locked into mine.

“I think I have something of yours.” He turned his palm upwards, showing me how he was weaving the fabric between his fingers, his hand slick with my arousal. I stared, enthralled for a moment at the sensuality of it, his hands seemed so delicate and graceful, and I wondered what else he could do with them, how they would feel on me, all over me, in my mouth, in my pussy, tangled into my hair while he fucked me senseless. I caught a small movement to my side where the bulge in his pants really had me hoping he wasn’t carrying. _Shit._ I hoped my moan wasn’t audible, but when I looked up the smirk was gone, and his eyes had darkened even further.

“Are you leaving?” His voice was thick and gravelly, resonating in my midriff, shooting a surge of blood straight down, smearing the insides of my thighs even further.

I bit down on my lip to stop another involuntary sound from escaping and glanced down at his erection, fighting to stop myself from palming him in the middle of the hall, getting us both through in jail for public indecency.

“No. I have something to take care of first.” I swallowed and he followed my glance to his erection. He waited for half a beat and scanned the corridor, pocketed my panties, grabbed my hand and set off to a bathroom 20 feet further down.

He wrenched the door open, dragged me inside, bolted the door and almost threw me against the far wall, and he was on me with a savage growl. He grabbed my ass, pushed himself into me, letting me feel how hard he was and plunged his tongue into my open mouth, his groans mixing with mine. I camped my hands onto is arms, feeling my way up, his muscles flexing under hot skin as I was clawing up to his shoulders and neck, his short hair bristling as I stroked his head and forced him closer, his clean scent filling my nostrils.

He almost ripped my dress when he pulled it up to my waist and let out a snarl when he hit bare skin, ground into me roughly before he broke the kiss and turned me against the wall, his hand sliding down and covering my mound, his finger stroking my clit on the way down and slid inside me, and my head flew back as I gasped for air.

“Can I fuck you like this?”

“Holy shit, yes.” We were both panting, the words coming out in bursts, and he twisted me towards the counter, two fingers buried deep in me, the back of his hand massaging me, keeping the pressure up, his other arm around my chest, anchoring me to him. I could feel his heart pounding into my back, his mouth open against my neck, grunting into my ear as his hand tugged my dress down and cupped my breast, his thumb flicking my already oversensitive nipple.

“Fuuuck.” He drew his hand back, leaving me empty and aching. I felt a wet trail across my stomach and he ripped his fly open and I could feel his cock against my buttock, jabbing through his boxers until he freed it fully and shoved it between my legs, dipping into my folds and I arched back, revelling in anticipation. “Shit.” He held my neck as he dug through his pocket and emerged with a condom, let me go while he stepped back enough to swiftly pull it on, and nudged my leg with his knee to spread me wider before he positioned himself at my entrance, letting my soaked folds and thighs lubricate the rubber.

“Look.” I opened my eyes and stared into the mirror, my hair a sweaty mess, my dress in complete disarray, my lips as swollen and red as his, his beard glistening and his eyes boring into mine through the reflection, and it was the hottest thing I’d seen. “Keep looking.”

I stared as hypnotised as he clamped my hips and entered me slowly, letting me adjust to the size and tighten around him. I couldn’t help my eyes rolling back as he filled me, I was already throbbing, my pussy swelling to welcome him, and I clung onto the edge of the sink, almost whimpering as I pushed back to meet and seated him fully.

“Fuck. Fuck, your cunt is amazing.” His voice was a hoarse whisper, almost drowned out by his heavy breathing, and I met his eyes in the mirror again, his jaw slack and his mouth open, his tongue flicking out, looking on the verge of losing control, and I clenched in response, egging him on, wanting him even deeper. He reached forward again, found my clit and started circling it as he jutted his hips, his arm hoisting me up by my ribs before he pulled back and started thrusting slowly, biting his lip as he watched us connecting. “Fuck. It looks so good, you look so good.”

The words shot through me, forcing out a groan, and I looked down, watched his hand work on me, heard the wet sucking as his fingers spread my folds and applied more pressure to my clit, leaving me nearly hyperventilating. He kept me in agony, his cock hitting every single nerve in my walls, his fingers shooting currents inwards, colliding in a burning, pulsing knot and I curved my back, reached behind to urge him to move faster, harder, I was desperate to come, to get some release, the tension was agony, and I’d never felt that good.

“Please.” I was panting, exhaling in shallow bursts, and he smiled, enjoying the power, enjoying the control, wanting me to beg for more, and I complied willingly. “Please.”

He chuckled, his fingers twitched and circled once before he picked up the pace and started rubbing harder and thrusting faster, his jaw set as he held back, concentrating on my climax before his. His other hand left my hip and closed around my ribs, cupping my breast and pulled me up. I fell back on his shoulder, and he covered my lips with his as he plunged into my mouth. I could feel the heat emerging, hot flashes surging from my centre, radiating through my whole body, my pussy contracting and throbbing violently and my head fell back, a silent scream stuck in my throat.

“That’s it. Scream for me.” I whimpered into his mouth, I couldn’t move and my legs were giving out. He slowly retracted his hand, rubbing my clit lightly and lifted his fingers to my mouth, smearing my cum on my bottom lip, sucked it gently and kissed me, his breath washing over my hot face before he lowered me down, hitched one of my knees in his elbow, held it in place on the counter and bent me forward, supporting me as he pulled back and slammed into me. I fell down on my elbows, my arms struggling with the weight of me as I clung to the sink, and he pounded me faster and faster, lifting me off the floor as he fucked me. I felt myself chasing another orgasm, every thrust bringing me closer, his grunts filling my head, and I tipped over the edge seconds before he arched back, slammed into me one last time and let out a deep rasping groan as he emptied himself over and over inside me, my own contractions milking every last drop out of him. He fell over me, his arms bracing outside mine to stop me from collapsing, and he stayed there while our breathing and pulses returned to something human again. After a few minutes my legs were shaking so hard I thought I would pass out, and he chuckled into my shoulder.

“Shit. I’m sorry. Here.” He pushed himself off, staggered a little, causing a small hiss to escape me as he withdrew. He pulled me up with him, fanning his fingers across my stomach and popped off the condom, throwing it into the trashcan by the door. He tucked his dick back into his boxers and started fixing my dress, tugging it in place, all the while staring at us in the mirror.

“There.” He smoothed down my hair and squeezed my shoulders before he kissed me on the cheek and ran his hands down my arms, resting his forehead on my shoulder before he released me and turned towards the door. “I have to go. Thank you. That was lovely.”

“Likewise.” I kept my tone neutral, surprised at how little I wanted him to leave. Huh. He stared at me for a long time, started to speak, stopped and opened the door, wavered a little before he walked out and left the door to slide shut behind him. _Fuck._

I took a long look in the mirror, smoothed my dress one last time and followed him, realising he still had my panties in his pocket. _Well fuck._ I smiled to myself as I stepped through the door.


	2. Something of Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, turns out there's more.

I hadn’t been back for two weeks. I’d been keeping busy with work, but I’d also gone to other places, and I’d not really wanted to examine the reason why. Rationally, I knew there wasn’t any danger—it was a done deal, it wasn’t something that was to be explored or built upon, it was strangers passing in the night, and I was _fine_ with that. That guy wasn’t supposed to be more, and I’d _been_ fine with that, I _was_ fine with that. And yet I couldn’t move on, I was almost afraid to go back. The problem was that I didn’t know what I was afraid of, what scared me more, the thought of seeing him again, or the thought of never seeing him at all. I checked my coat and rolled my neck before I entered the dimly lit bar.

It was fairly busy—two thirds full at least, most all tables were taken, the crowd at the bar rowdy and loud, no stool unoccupied. I scanned the room and saw my friend wave from a table on the far side and set out towards her, hailing a waitress on the way and ordered. Halfway there I stopped in my tracks and turned my head to the innermost corner, a shiver rippling through me, causing my legs to wobble. _Fuck. Thank god_.

He was sitting alone in a booth, nursing a bottled beer, his eyes glinting darkly. His stance was superficially relaxed, he was sagging in his seat, but he was tense and alert, and it looked like he’d been sitting there for hours. I met his gaze, the heat of it radiating straight down, the memory of him in me flashing in my head, and I knew he’d been waiting. Not how long, but I knew he’d been waiting, watching, searching. For me. He tipped his bottle towards me, drank deep, rose in a completely fluid, almost catlike motion and came towards me, his mouth curling enough to be benign but his jaw set enough to be almost intimidating. He halted in front of me without once averting his eyes. I stared back, unable to process fully, my pulse and breathing quickening, my brain wreaking havoc by painting vivid images in my head, my body reacting in not at all subtle ways.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” My voice carried better than I thought it would, but the rumble of his drove a spike straight through the little resolve I had left, and I knew, with certainty, why I had avoided coming here. He held out his hand, and I took it without thinking, there wasn’t a question really.

“Dance with me.” He lead me to the middle of the floor, stopped and positioned me in front of him, my back to him, and he held me lightly, his cheek resting at my temple. I started swaying with him, feeling him rub against me, the buttons of his denim vest getting caught between us, scraping my back, scruff on his jaw chafing my cheek, his arms flexing around me, the bare skin on mine vibrating from where we touched, and yes—the hard unyielding length of him grinding into my ass. I could feel how slick my thighs were, my core was burning, longing for him, and I fell back and exposed my neck. I wanted him closer, I wanted more, and I didn’t much care where I got it or who could witness.

“Can you feel that?” He spoke hoarsely, his tongue flicking my earlobe, his lips hot and wet, his breath in my hair and ear and down my neck, my jaw falling open as his hands stilled my hips, and he pressed harder, driving the point home. “Can you remember how it made you feel?”

“Yes.” I could hardly speak, but I wanted him to hear in my voice how he affected me. “Yes. I remember.”

“Are you ready for me? Are you wet for me?”

“Yes.” My lungs didn’t work properly, but I carried on, he could hear me just fine. “Oh god yes.”

“Good.” He stopped moving and turned me around. His eyes, blackened by lust, pierced mine, and he kissed me, his cock almost painful against my pelvis and stomach. He tasted of beer and mint, the fact that he’d taken time to have one after he’d seen me spoke of an arrogance I knew he was right to have. Because here I was, seriously considering letting him fuck me right in the middle of the throng on the dancefloor. “You want to sit down? In the dark? Over there?” He indicated the table he’d come from.

“Yes.” My reply was unsteady from the chills running down my spine.

He released me, took my hand and dragged me through the crowd, elbowing people left and right, not even dignifying the angry mutterings with a glance. We reached the spot he'd vacated before, it was barely lit, two old faux leather sofas with a worn table between them and even more secluded by a booth beside it. He gestured for me to sit and pulled some notes out of his pocket and adjusted his jeans, his bulge was clearly visible, and it didn't seem like he cared at all. He took off the vest and threw it on the opposite side.

“Can I get you a drink?”

I craned my neck to see if I could spot the drink I’d ordered on my friend's table, but I figured she’d take it if it was there. “Sure. A G&T?”

He nodded and left for the bar, it was fascinating to see how the crowd seemed to dissolve in front of him, apparently his air of dominance wasn’t exclusively for me. Again I was struck by his gait, even in those heavy boots he was graceful, he looked lethal, someone you’d not want to piss off, and it was the sexiest thing I’d seen in my life. It didn’t hurt that his black tank was tight enough to set off every muscle in his back, or that his jeans made me remember how his ass had looked when I’d seen it last. I was working myself into a frenzy just watching him, and the thought of him coming back made me gasp for air, if left for long I’d start fucking hyperventilating. I squirmed into the seat as he finished up and turned back, and I thought I saw a smirk before he left the bar, my luck would have had him notice me even through the dark. _Well, brilliant. It’s not like he doesn’t already know._ He stopped and offered the glass and waited until I scooted into the wall before sliding in after me, angled himself towards me, legs spread, ankle hooked under his knee, held up his bottle, and did nothing to hide he knew exactly the state of me. I flinched under his gaze, but I forced myself to meet it steadily, I knew enough to hold my own and clinked my glass to his beer. He extended his arm along the back of the sofa and tugged a few strands of my hair.

“It’s darker than last time.”

Why did the fact that he noticed tug at my heart? _Fuck_. “Yeah. I tried a different shade.”

“It looks nice.”

“Thank you.”

His hand moved to my bare shoulder, tracing the strap of my dress and bra. I didn’t even try to hide the tremble. He smiled as he drank deeply.

“I’m not looking for something more.” He said it matter of factly as one finger hooked under my bra, and I managed a sip to stall, both to hide the small pang I felt, but mostly to avoid ripping my own clothes off.

“Good. Me neither.” Which wouldn’t have been a lie half an hour ago, but now? My heart sank a little, the pang wasn’t as small as I’d thought, but small enough that I could ignore it for the immediate price, my body took precedence, my heart could take the regret later. He stared at me, a finger tracing my clavicle while he drained his beer, I couldn't get a read on him, but I felt sure he got one on me. He moved up my neck and jaw and worried my lower lip with his thumb. I opened my mouth automatically, sucked it gently, and he bit his lip and shifted in his seat. He sat his bottle on the table and relieved me of my glass before closing the distance a little, still holding my eyes.

“You sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay. Good.” He found the back of my neck, thread his fingers through my hair and leaned in, hesitated a little, licked his lips and swallowed, his eyes black pools in the dark. “Good.” He glanced at my mouth, half open, probably quivering in anticipation, and finally kissed me.

The taste of beer mingled with the taste of gin wasn’t something I’d normally go for, but it was straight up delicious as his tongue met mine, hot and wet, exploring and hesitant at first, then his grip tightened in my hair, and he found my hand and laid it on his crotch, pressing into it, letting me feel the size and girth, and I moaned into him. I lifted myself on one knee, and he grabbed my thigh and steered me on top of him until I straddled him and removed my hand in exchange for my aching throbbing pussy. I fought for air as he clamped his hand on my hip to steady me when he started rotating underneath me, rubbing his cock against my clit while he opened my mouth further, invading me, causing me to thrust down hard, desperate for release, and I broke the kiss, heaving for oxygen, panting furiously.

“Fuck.” He was equally breathless as he untangled his hand from my hair, only pulling out a little, reached down and stroked up under my skirt. He hissed when he made contact with my inner thigh, smearing his palm as he found what was left of the lace of my panties. He chuckled, and I looked down in a haze, unable to connect even the simplest of dots. “Why do you bother?”

“What?” It was a barely discernible huff, all I could concentrate on was his fingers and what they were doing and why the fuck they weren’t doing more of it.

He teased a finger under the edge and grinned at the sharp gasp. “Why do you bother with underwear? It doesn’t seem to do you a whole lot of good.”

“Oh fuck off, I don’t do this with everyone.” I whimpered in response to the second finger joining the first and he laughed again. “I-I-I-I nev—aahhh.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

I vaguely registered something in his voice, a tinge of melancholy perhaps—or longing maybe—but the thought vanished as soon as his other hand released me, and I lifted myself a little to make room for him, aching to feel him inside me, any part of him, I just needed _something_.

“Fuck, you're so wet for me. So ready.” He finally pushed the lace aside and dipped into the pool of my arousal, and my lungs stopped working.

“Aaahhh.”

He didn't move at all, and I knew if I tried to meet him he would stop. I hovered, my whole body shaking from the strain, it made me clench and set every nerve ending on fire. My mouth was open, fighting to breathe while he twisted my hair with his other hand and watched me, forcing me to look at him.

“You can't move, we'll be thrown out. Be still for me.”

“Uh uh. Sure.” My heart threatened to pound its way out of my chest, my whole midriff was burning, and all I could see were his eyes, authoritative but soft somehow—reassuring, demanding trust.

He didn't waver but held me there in delicious agony for an eternity before he wriggled his fingers, made them slick and smooth, spread me out and sank into me slowly, twisting as he went and covered my silent scream with a kiss. He held still until I had adjusted around him, my walls contracting as he carefully stroked and turned until he couldn’t get any deeper and his thumb reached my clit. He kept my mouth occupied while he started rotating, thrusting gently and massaging me both inside and out, his tongue twirling and licking in rhythm with his hand. The fist in my hair locked me to him, and all I could do to stay up was bracing myself on his shoulders, around his neck, my nails burying themselves in his skin, my knees so tense my whole frame was shaking. I whined into his mouth, and he broke away, leaving an inch of space between us.

“You wanna come?” He circled my clit languidly, rubbing his fingers in me. I swelled and throbbed to the breaking point, it was painful, it was agony, a sweet torture that promised relief and bliss, and I was torn. I wanted to drag it out, I wanted him to continue, not to relent, but I knew I wouldn’t manage to hold out for long, and my strength was waning fast. I was only distantly aware that we were in public, and I couldn’t bring myself to care one bit, this was worth being arrested for. I panted, biting my lip to keep from screaming out, my eyes glued shut. I knew his expression, it would be dark and teasing, he was enjoying the power and I was more than willing to relinquish it, but I couldn’t watch him, I knew I would fall apart. “You want me to let you come.”

“Yes.” It was a small moan, maybe I thought it conveyed the “pretty please” buried in there better.

“How bad do you want to?”

“Please.” I fell down an inch, and he stilled his thumb. “No. I’m sorry. Please.” I retreated with immense effort, and he continued his labour, chuckling. I let out a deep sigh. “Yes. Thank you.”

He picked up the pace a little, added stroking to the repertoire, and reinforced the pressure on my head.

“Look at me.” I opened my eyes without thinking, he looked more serious than I’d imagined but his chest was heaving, and I felt his jeans moving against my thighs, I didn’t want to imagine how they would look. “Don’t look away or I will stop.” The threat made it even better, my jaws clamped shut, my neck was a rigid mass, and he finally granted me permission.

It didn’t take long, the build-up was near complete just by the expectation, I could feel the smacking sound of his fingers moving in my soaked slit, his thumb pressed harder and faster, his fingers spread and stretched, stroking and massaging, leaving every nerve open, every touch bringing me closer, he hooked his fingers and I came.

The orgasm washed over me, wave upon wave as he kept my eyes in his, watching me unravel until he stilled his hand, allowing me to sink down, and kissed me gently.

“That’s a good girl. You want to get out of here so I can fuck you?”

I could barely hear him through the hammering of my pulse in my head, his words were dabbing my lips, but I nodded weakly. “Yes.”

His hand started to retract, and I exhaled sharply as he made sure to hit every part of swollen skin he could, lingering on the most oversensitive area. I was still clenching, and I could feel his cock twitching under me, increasing the residual throbbing, soiling him, and he jutted his hips, letting me know he felt it too. Suddenly I got the urge to taste him, to feel him in my mouth, to see him become as undone as I was. I waited until I got my body to comply, planting soft kisses on his jaw and neck, nibbled his earlobe and felt him groan and struggle for air.

“How much do you think we can get away with?” My whisper was warm air into his ear and his reply as ragged.

“I can’t get caught doing this.” He swallowed hard. “It would be dangerous.”

“That’s what makes it fun.” I pushed off him, glided down and settled on the floor, banking on the table hiding my head. I started undoing his fly while he his eyes widened in shock for a brief moment, but his hand was still stuck in my head, I could feel his reinforced grip and knew he wouldn’t stop me. I ripped the last of the buttons open and revelled in the sight of his cock through his boxers. I might have licked my lips. I smiled as I palmed him and pulled the fabric down.

“Shit.” His other hand pushed hair away from my face, granting him unimpeded vision.

I took a moment to feast my eyes, his dick was a thing of beauty. I'd not seen it before, but I knew how it felt, how the length and girth would challenge me, and I salivated at the prospect.

I grabbed the base, anchoring him and moved in and sucked his balls in turn while I looked up and met his hooded eyes, taking in his slack jaw and shining lips. I grinned as I drew my tongue flat the whole way up, the veins and ridges unyielding, the skin taut and smooth and he fell back as I pulled his foreskin down to reveal his head. I closed around it, teasing the slit and squeezed a drop of precum to taste.

“Atta girl.” He was watching, voice thick and barely audible, teeth and tongue chewing and flicking his lip, tensing and clenching under me. “That's it. Fuck, that's it.”

I opened up, sank down on him and took him as far as I could, gagging around him and he shook. I tightened my grip and began pumping, sucking and licking in tune, forcing him as far in as I could, spit and precum dripping every time he hit my throat. It was the biggest and best-tasting dick I'd ever had in me, and I felt myself squirming as the blood started surging right through my centre, the need for him not satiated in the least.

“Jesus. Fuck. That’s a good girl, just like th—ahhhh—” Both his hands were in my hair, digging into my skull, twisting so hard I thought I’d get a bald spot. He held me still in an iron grip and started thrusting, not hard but hard enough that I was damn near choking on him, my eyes watering, and my pussy throbbing so much I thought I’d come again. He was grunting, and I could feel the strain in his arms from trying to hold back. He managed to release me a little and let me control the pace but I continued forcing him as deep as possible, my hand meeting my mouth steadily, and within seconds I could feel him expanding and convulsing, and with one last powerful shove he came.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, I—” He sounded like he was choking. Which, to be perfectly honest, suited me just fine.

I pulled out a little to close my lips around him, wanting to catch as much of him that I could, his load shooting straight into my throat in hard rhythmic bursts. I swallowed furiously, sucking him gently while he emptied himself, his nails scratching my scalp, his hips jerking erratically, his eyes rolled up, and he fell back, panting frantically. I took as much as I could and began licking him clean while he came down. He started freeing his hands, flinching slightly as he became more and more sensitive, watching me and carefully began stroking and straightening my hair.

“Jesus, woman. That was—that was—fuck.”

I kissed the tip of his cock and pulled up the foreskin before I tucked it back into his boxers, my cheeks actually hot as I met his eyes. They were twinkling, and he looked more relaxed than I’d seen him, his mouth curling, most of the intensity gone from his beautiful features, and I felt my chest swell. Not good.

“That was magnificent. You are magnificent.” He cupped my face and wiped my cheeks dry, I hoped my makeup wasn’t all messed up. I felt vulnerable and exposed, my midriff was still churning but at the moment the emotional struggle took precedence. He pulled me up, still cradling my face, and I climbed onto his lap again and closed my eyes with a sigh as he kissed my cheeks, my eyes, my jaw and each corner of my mouth before covering it and teased his tongue barely inside, tasting himself on me, humming in apparent satisfaction. I smiled and laid my hand above his heart, the beating slowly reverting to normal.

“How do I look?”

He leaned back and studied me with a grin. “Like someone who’s almost choked on a dick.”

I gave his shoulder a shove. “I’m serious.”

“So am I. You look fucking beautiful.” He pushed my hair back and tugged at the ends. “I’m sorry about that by the way. I didn’t mean to come on so hard, it was just unexpected.” He traced a finger from my temple down my neck. “A little rosy but your makeup is fine. Maybe freshen your lipstick, although they’re really red and plump.” He sucked the bottom one, still grinning, and I finally began to relax.

“So I can show myself?”

“Yes.”

“In public?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” I leaned in for another kiss, the bliss of the aftermath setting in even if I couldn’t resist a small rotation of my hips, my underwear was still crooked, and all that was between us was the cotton of his boxers. He reciprocated by grinding languidly, lazily, and his whole frame rumbled underneath me.

“Really. You wanna go again? So soon?” He brushed my skirt up and ghosted his palms up my thighs, stopping when he felt the lining of my panties and fondled it. “What about a drink first?”

I inhaled sharply, my thirst being for something else entirely, and he laughed again.

“Or did you have your fill?”

“Fuck you.” I clenched hard on top of him, and I felt him stir, growing more rigid. I smiled at him, his lip was caught between his teeth and his fingers fanned out and secured me in place.

He closed his eyes and ground harder.

“Fuck me.” It came out more commanding than I intended, but as soon as I said it I really meant it.

His eyes flew open, and he exhaled forcefully. “Not here.” He nuzzled my ear and kissed my jaw before he withdrew his hands, letting my dress down with them. I tipped sideways and landed beside him. I wasn’t happy, but he was right, we’d been more than fortunate and there was no point in challenging our luck further. I took my half-empty glass from the table and drained it, if truth be told I was parched. He watched me, amusement playing on his face.

“Another?”

“Yes, please.”

“Coming right up.” He buttoned his jeans and straightened his clothes before he got up, slipped on the vest as he disappeared towards the bar, leaving me strangely empty. I was worried for some reason, the relief seeping out in his absence, sure, the intensity was gone, but I felt the change was too great. I thought I detected something else in his shoulders, dejection or anxiety and suddenly panic rose like bile in my throat. The sight of him returning was relieving until I saw his face, he had the same closed off expression he’d worn before, even if he smiled as he set our drinks on the table and folded in beside me.

“Thanks.” I took the gin and sipped, he met my gaze, but now it looked wary. _Fuck_. At least I was prepared when he spoke.

“Listen. I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” He was picking at the label on the bottle, talking to it, averting his eyes. “It’s not you.”

I scoffed. “No, it’s not. That’s all you.” My words had a venomous tinge, I was far more hurt than I liked to admit. All the tension was back but for entirely different reasons. I felt used. I knew it was irrational, I’d been more than willing, I’d gotten as much as I’d given, but the feeling of rejection was overwhelming. I drank up and set my glass down with a small bang, furious that I felt tears starting to emerge. I didn’t look at him, I didn’t want him to see. I was just thankful that my voice didn’t break. “Please leave me.”

He hesitated, I could feel him moving beside me, hear him drawing breath as if to speak then stopping short several times. Eventually he got up, left the bottle almost full, and stood for a while, looking at me, I felt the prickling down my spine.

“I’m sorry.” He walked away, leaving me more alone than I’d felt in years. _Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck._

I sat there for a few minutes until I’d gotten the tears under control. I was stronger than this, I couldn’t get caught up in some random dude, no matter how attractive or good a lay he was. _Fuck him_. I gathered my bag from the corner where I’d dropped it and got up, avoiding the table with my friend. I knew she’d seen me when I arrived, but she’d probably also seen me with him, and we had a firm agreement not to interfere unless one of us signalled. I considered having another drink, but I didn’t feel like braving the crowd no matter how much I wanted to get drunk. _Fuck him_.

He was that guy after all, so why was I surprised? I'd fucked up, I'd come looking for something I didn't even know I wanted, and I'd fooled myself into thinking he'd wanted it too. But he was just another asshole cruising for an easy lay, although it was strange that he, who basically could get any woman he'd want, had seemed to be waiting for me. I shook my head, trying to chase the line of thought away, no use going there now. I hitched my bag up and went to check out my coat.

I felt downright dejected as I stepped outside, sad and remorseful, the chill night breaking my legs and chest out in goosebumps, stopped for a moment to feel the air before I turned and started walking towards my apartment three blocks down. I had walked maybe ten feet when I became aware of movement behind me, the sound of a boot stubbing out a cigarette, and a voice that radiated heat through my frozen core.

“Hey. Hey miss.” I stopped as a surge of elation and relief washed over me, despite chastising myself internally. I didn’t want to be so easy, but I turned to meet him nevertheless. He approached slowly, extending his hand to me. “My name is Chris.” I shook it and watched as his eyes crinkled and his mouth curled up in a small apologetic smile. “I’m an asshole and a coward, and I’m sorry for letting you see that.” He reached into his pocket and produced the panties from our previous encounter. “And I think I have something of yours.”


End file.
